Page 7 of Indulge
I grin.
“Jerking yourself off? If I’ve interrupted, feel free to go relieve yourself upstairs.” I point up to his grand staircase.
Reggie growls behind me.
“Why would I be doing that now? At seven thirty am?” Drago asks.
I frown.
“I did at six thirty? Is there a time limit on it?”
Drago runs a hand through his blond hair, as if he’s contemplating my question.
“No. I suppose not.”
“How the fuck did we get here?” Reggie grunts as he sits beside me.
Drago chuckles.
“He’s your twin. You tell me.”
“Ha-ha. I’ll knock next time,” I chime in.
“What can we do for you?” Reggie asks.
Drago sits back, resting his foot over his knee.
“I have intel from a friend back in Russia on some connections, or potential connections, to The Preachers organization. We’re under Declan and Finn’s instructions to scope out our enemy thoroughly before we make an attack. Mikhail is doing the same in Vegas, and Frankie in New York. But we’ve also got a branch no one had a clue about in Phoenix I’m trying to bring in.”
I clap my hands together.
“Cowboys?”
Drago nods.
“Yeah. They own the biggest ranch in Arizona. And the family has been working for Enzo for years. He’s kept that quiet, apparently. I’m still trying to get in contact with him, I think he might be a good source.”
In this life, it’s one enemy after another. You always have to sleep with one eye open. That’s if you fucking sleep.
But the shit with The Preacher, it feels different.
Like a nuclear war is brewing. And we’re fighting ghosts.
“We got a name of someone to watch?” I ask.
Since getting shot and being on bed rest, I’ve been itching to get back to it.
“A small time dealer that’s been sniffing around one of our warehouses,” Drago confirms.
And that’s the issue with The Preacher. They aren’t mafia. They could be anyone.
“Our next shipment comes in three days,” Reggie mutters.
I turn to face him.
He’s been quiet since we left home this morning.
“Yeah. It’s Friday in three days, brother.”
